Heir in Exile by Danielle Bourdon

was tight and taut, unable to really relax. Even after three drinks. Allowing the silence to stretch, she worked each section until she felt a little give in the sinew. Up near his nape, she leaned down to press several kisses at his hairline. Rewarded with a shiver from him for her effort, she repeated the gesture then sat up once more and continued kneading.
    She didn't kid herself for a second into thinking he would get any decent rest tonight. Chey wouldn't be getting any either. Not even with the possibility of an unwanted visitor so distant.
    But they could rest, and gather strength for tomorrow.
    She sucked in a surprised gasp when, without warning, he twisted just enough to reach back and snag her off his body. He brought her down to the bed with him. She landed on her back at his side, hair whipping out across the pillows.
    “Thank you,” he said, words muffled.
    “I thought it was the least I could do. Besides, I haven't seen you naked yet today, and I have a quota, sir, that must be met.” She tried for a little levity to combat the dark situation they found themselves in.
    “I knew it was all about the body,” he rumbled.
    “Exactly.”
    “When do I get to see you naked? I think it's only fair.”
    Chey could hear the disturbance in his voice. Despite the easy banter, Sander was not comforted or distracted by it. Dropping the subject, she said instead, “I'm sorry you're dealing with all this. Just know that no matter what happens, I'll be right here at your side.”
    “I'm glad to hear that,” he said, obviously pleased at the topic change.
    Chey skimmed her fingers over the arm he laid across her ribs. “Your title, or lack of one, doesn't change a thing about what I feel for you.”
    “Good. For some women, it would make all the difference.”
    “I'm not most women, but then you knew that when you met me. I suspect it's why we're still together.” She reached over to brush a few strands of hair away from his face.
    “One of many reasons,” he assured her. One vivid blue eye came into view. He stared at her, lids low. “There could be a lot of scandal involved with this by the time it's over.”
    “You make that sound like a warning.”
    “It is, to an extent. I just don't want you burned so bad by it all that you decide it's not worth it.”
    “You'll always be worth it,” she whispered. “Sometimes it takes me a little while to adjust to something new or shocking, but I do adjust. We'll get through whatever comes our way. I have faith we're strong enough together to deal with the fallout.”
    He grunted. Finally, after ten minutes of comfortable silence, he said, “You should get some sleep. I'll stay awake, keep watch of things.”
    “I think I'll be able to rest if we take turns. I won't do it unless you let me return the favor later. You need to recuperate so you're on top of your game tomorrow,” she said.
    “We can trade off keeping watch,” he agreed.
    “All right. Are you feeling okay though? I've never seen you so openly distressed,” she mentioned, wanting to give him the opportunity to speak about the things that troubled him.
    “I'll get through. I'm very disturbed however by the thought that the throne is not mine by birthright. Even the idea, the slightest chance, really puts a burden on whatever choice I make from here.” His gaze went distant.
    “It's probably exactly what he wants. To make you doubt and to make you suffer,” she said.
    “I don't like the idea of becoming a hypocrite. Yet the desire to fight for the title of Heir is strong. It's what I've grown up my entire life believing. That it was mine by right.”
    Chey smoothed her fingers over the skin of his shoulder. She could hear the conflict in his voice, see it on his expression. It made her furious at Aksel for placing doubt in Sander's mind. The King was getting his way again, using nefarious means, and it galled her that Aksel might get through all this unscathed.
    “We'll concentrate on